


Make Everything Alright (Feel Special)

by RedPiperFox



Category: Feel Special - TWICE (Music Video), TWICE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Gen, Platonic Relationships, Plot from Feel Special MV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:40:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29906073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedPiperFox/pseuds/RedPiperFox
Summary: In a shattering kingdom of nine districts, Queen Jeongyeon and eight other ladies of the realm grapple with their duties to restore the peace and take up leadership.Based on the plot, aesthetic, and outfits from the Feel Special music video. JYP Nation will be mentioned as characters, Stray Kids playing a large part in the story.
Relationships: Chaeyoung/Dahyun/Jeongyeon/Jihyo/Mina/Momo/Nayeon/Sana/Tzuyu (TWICE), Chou Tzuyu/Hirai Momo, Im Nayeon/Park Jisoo | Jihyo, Kim Dahyun/Minatozaki Sana, Myoui Mina/Son Chaeyoung, Stray Kids Ensemble & TWICE Ensemble, TWICE Ensemble/Everyone
Kudos: 10





	1. There Are Days (Chaeyoung)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the Son District, where technology and education thrive, Chaeyoung is trapped.

Chaeyoung never usually stuck around after she finished dinner. She was happy to join her family for meals, and then quickly vanish into her room or workshop and not have to speak with them again, as it had become abundantly clear that there was a clear difference of opinions that would not allow them to have any civilized conversations. However this time, it was a letter in her mother’s hand, a firm curiosity that planted Chaeyoung firmly in her seat and would not let her leave. The letter was decorated in gold flakes, a thick envelope that looked straight from the archives of a medieval fantasy. 

But this was the digital age, and Chaeyoung could not understand why on earth someone would send a letter when a call, email, or text would do. Was it something important? Something private? Surely it must have had some significance to be hand-delivered, Chaeyoung reasoned. Her mother ate slowly, clearly not sharing Chaeyoung’s sentiment, and the letter laid idly by her hand. Across the white table, her brother’s reflection smiled mischievously. 

“Funny you should still be here,” he mused, “Don’t you have some fantasy to invent? Like mechanical horses for children to ride, or-”

“Shut up Jeonghun,” Chaeyoung muttered, smiling sweetly at her mother who raised an eyebrow at her odd behavior.

The clock ticked ominously, echoing through the empty halls. The air was still, bleached of any culture or familiar smells. The food was cold, bland, and unspiced. The silence stretched, each moment more uncomfortable than the last, until finally her mother let out a sigh and picked up the letter.

“I might as well tell you,” she said, resigned, “The decision has been made, and I suppose there’s no reason in hiding news.”

Chaeyoung held her breath as her mother passed over the letter to read, and her eyes quickly scanned between the handwritten lines.

“‘A gathering of the nobility,’” Chaeyoung murmured, “‘To rectify the divides-’”

Her brother interrupted, “It’s a bunch of hogwash. Ever since Princess Jeongyeon has taken leadership she’s been trying to put her fingers into every district and turn everything on its head.”

“That’s Queen Jeongyeon,” their mother corrected, taking the letter back and folding it neatly, “And it’s nothing the Yoo family hasn’t done before. Every monarch has this pie in the sky idea, something they believe will keep the people on their side, something radical and extraordinary usually. But it’ll be nothing of importance, just a bunch of hot air, pomp to win over the nobility that’ll wash out into raised taxes. As long as she continues funding the Son family, and our district’s advances in education and technology, she’s nothing better or worse than the leadership this country has had since the beginning of time.”

Chaeyoung folded her hands and treaded lightly into the conversation, “Shouldn’t we send someone then? Jeonghun or I could-”

“-I’m not going to a stupid tea party!-” he interrupted.

“-go to ensure that we remain in the good graces of her Majesty,” Chaeyoung finished, ignoring her brother’s complaints.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Chaeng,” her mother scolded, “Unless she’s a fool, her Highness realises that this country cannot exist with the Son District and our contributions to society. No, dear, we needn’t interfere in these politics.”

With that, her mother got up and left, taking the letter with her, and leaving Chaeyoung and Jeonghun to sit with her decision. Jeonghun smiled smugly.

“I told you, you’ll never leave the district.”

Chaeyoung stood up abruptly, her chair hitting the floor as she took a handful of cold stew and threw it at her brother’s face, trying to repress her pleasure at the beautiful contrast the orange food was to his starched white jacket and shiningly clean jeans. She then stalked off into the palace, the heels of her boots hitting the tiles and echoing through the palace. She stepped into the glass elevator, drawing symbols into the transparent walls before the doors shut close.

The glass prism then flew up and to the side, above halls and passed the different workshops, until it stopped at a far corner of the palace, at a dome, tiled room into which Chaeyoung stepped into, and promptly locked herself in. She tapped a tile, and out from the floor and walls came her desk and a round table. She tapped the table and brought up her holographic map of the kingdom. Her hands hovered over the far right, where the Son District stood with its distinguished universities and towering laboratories that produced the future. Her finger found the web of monorails, two blocks from the Son Palace where she lived, and traced it to the center of the map, the Capital, heart of the country, and home of the Yoo Palace. Undoubtedly where Queen Jeongyeon’s meeting was being held.

Chaeyoung sunk into her chair, glancing over to her desk. Queen Jeongyeon’s meeting. The letter had mentioned inequality, and a lack of unity in the country, and Chaeyoung’s mind flashed to a university rebellion that had been organised by her friend Ryujin the past week. Her mother hadn’t let Chaeyoung attend, because heaven forbid a lady be found marching in the streets, but Chaeyoung had supported her friend regardless. The universities were one of the few places in the nation where people of all the districts united together. It was one of the few places where cultures blended, clashed, and burst out in beautiful colors. Ryujin spoke out against the inequality between each district, the injustice brought down on some people, and the lack of support from the nobility to see these problems and change.

It had hurt Chaeyoung to hear those words from her friend. She was the nobility, after all. Ryujin had been pointing an angry finger at _her_ . Her mother would say that Ryujin was an example of an unsettled generation that found the need to blame someone, _anyone_ , for their hurt. Besides, Chaeyoung _was_ fighting inequality and injustice. The young lady had helped design the monorail that stretched the entire nation, bringing equal transportation to districts where horses and outdated cars were the only transports. But then again, she wasn’t sure if she knew what the inequality, injustice, and lack of support really meant. She hadn’t even left her own district, except through her holographic map.

And her window.

Chaeyoung tapped the white tiles, causing it to become transparent for a moment, and show the beautiful world beyond. The forest of the Myoi district, a forest spun in electric colors, soft and brilliant. No one wanted this room. The forest was just space that could be used to build more, expand and create, but they could only do that as far as their district stretched. The Myoi forests were protected lands, opportunities that could not be touched. Only Chaeyoung had seen it for that, and loved it.

She rested her hand against the glass, to the land she could see but not touch.

Her fingers curled into a fist, and she tapped the glass again, bringing back the opaque tiles.

She looked over the rejected blueprints on her desk, her answers to all Ryujin’s complaints. She had more energy efficient subways, that wove and connected the unreached corners of the country, she had balloon turbines, that could provide clean energy in even the poorest district, and she had designs for simple schools and hospitals, that could have digitized doctors and teachers to provide answers where people had unanswerable questions. Stamped on each file in red, her mother and her board of scientists had rejected each one.

Chaeyoung pushed her desk into the wall and sunk the map-table back into the floor. She pushed all the furniture in her room away, until all that was left was a plain white bench in the middle of the room. She slumped onto the bench and threw her arm over her eyes.

See, but don’t touch. 

Observe, but don’t act.

Reach, but don’t dare to hope.

Chaeyoung cursed Jeongyeon’s stupid letter.


	2. All Those Words You Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the Chou District, where agriculture is overseen, Tzuyu locks herself in her room.

It was a picturesque view from Tzuyu’s window, rolling fields of golden grain, waves that bent in the wind, swaying and dancing gently for miles and miles. And framing the window, bursting in color, were an array of blossoms in pink, red, yellow, and blue. As Tzuyu looked around her all she felt was warm and cozy, perfectly homely and perfectly proper.

But then her mother burst in, ribbons and flowers trailing behind her, along with an array of servants all bustling in business, and the comforting feeling left.

“Tzuyu dear,” her mother pampered and preened, pulling at her daughter’s hair, “You knew about the meeting with the Kim family today to discuss the Queen’s invitation, didn’t you? I thought I told you to get ready, Tzuyu.”

Tzuyu bit her tongue back, a sharp retort dying at the back of her throat. She wasn’t the oldest, and so she had never been required to attend these meetings of high importance. After all, it was her brother that would take over the Chou dynasty, overseeing the production and distribution of food through the nation. She attended noble parties only so that people would know she existed, that the Chou family did indeed have two children, but other than knowing basic formalities and common acquaintances, she never had to learn the diplomacy and politics of being a lady.

Tzuyu would live and die in comfort and solitude till the end of her days. 

And she didn’t want it any other way.

“Mommy,” Tzuyu wined, the crown of roses, golden petals, and shining grain stalks woven into her head, “Ah, it hurts!”

“Oh stop complaining,” her mother muttered, “When I was your age I was dressing up in double the finery for the suitors, you know. You should count your blessings that your father and I haven’t insisted on Courting Balls for your and your brother.”

It rang in her head, and Tzuyu did count her lucky stars that her parents weren’t as insistent on the old rules as other district nobilities were. But it was quickly forgotten as she was pulled down the hall, tripping over her wide skirt, the guards pulling open the double doors for them. 

The Kim District neighbored them to the west and south, and had always been loyal allies in every conflict that arose over the centuries. The two districts depended on each other, because as much as the Chou District could produce, it all accounted to nothing without the aid of the Kim District to distribute and trade with foreign nations for what they lacked. Each district would die without the other. It was politics as old as time, and an alliance that could not be taken lightly. Whenever the winds of change blew through the nobility, the Kim and Chou dynasties consulted each other before deciding on their opinions before the public. And their combined opinions before the public generally created and destroyed society. 

The portico outside was fully set for tea, surrounded by well-trimmed hedges and covered by a lace tent that fluttered in the breeze. The table was round, with Lord Kim and Tzuyu’s father sitting opposite each other. At their right hands were seats for their wives, and their sons sat at their left. As her mother took her place by her father’s side, and Tzuyu sat next to her brother, she made note of the empty seat next to Kim Myungsoo. 

“My sister Dahyun is occupied with an unexpected foreign arrangement,” Myungsoo answered, catching Tzuyu’s eye, “She sends her regards, and wishes she could be here.”

Tzuyu nodded politely, trying to not wear her disappointment on her face. Dahyun was always great company, and would keep her from becoming too bored during these meetings.

“Let’s get to it, shall we?” Lord Kim threw down the letter, “Queen Jeongyeon and her olive branch petition with both the people and nobility.”

“It would be timely,” Lord Chou replied, regarding his letter critically, “Given the failing foreign alliances, and diseases plaguing the crops, however…”

“She has no claim to the throne,” Lady Kim spat out, “What business does the youngest Yoo sister have sitting on the throne? None! It was bad enough that the Yoo dynasty lacked sons, and then that their daughters were not married, but now the youngest on a throne?”

Tzuyu frowned and spoke under her breath, turning to her brother, “Didn’t the other Yoo Princesses abdicate?”

Her brother nodded, but before he could respond, their mother spoke up from her side of the table.

“Regardless of why, Queen Jeongyeon holds our lives in our throne now,” Lady Chou dismissed, “And if she holds  _ our _ lives, she holds the entire Kingdom. Now there is the pressing matter of ships sunk in the Western Seas, terrorists burning vegetable fields in the South and rice crops becoming diseased in the North by the Miyou District. If the Queen extends an olive branch in the form of this dinner, then given our troubles, we cannot so lightly dismiss this opportunity. Perhaps she can supply us with the money to fight these troubles.”

Lord Kim let out a sigh, “But these are pressing times, Lady Chou. We cannot just leave our districts for the Queen’s fancy.”

Lord Choi raised his glass, “Not to mention that we will be occupied the days leading up and following this date. My wife and I will be meeting with farmers here at the palace to balance the logistics of what crops can be salvaged from the destruction this season, and I know that Lord and Lady Kim must do the same with captains of the trading ships soon. Our districts cannot be spared of the nobility now.” 

Myungsoo spoke up again, “This I agree with. Just last week there was a rebellion at the Son Palace while Lady Son and her son Jeonghun attended an exhibition halfway across the district. Everyone has been on edge since the late King Yoo and his Queen passed, and they will jump at the opportunity to express their frustrations with the nobility absent at each district.”

Tzuyu’s eyes widened. That was why they had left Dahyun at home. And if her intuition was correct, they would have left her with the Han Family, their trusted advisors, who were upper-middle class nobility that held the good opinion of the public. Public unrest, unstable politics-- it made Tzuyu clench her jaw and fiddle with her fingers in nervousness. But then her brother held her hand under the table, and gave her wink. 

“Perhaps Tzuyu could help the servants get us some dessert?” he suggested, helping his sister stand up. 

But Lady Kim raised her hand and had her sit down again.

“Have you heard nothing?” She scolded, “We need one of  _ you _ to do this for us. We are dealing with pirates and terrorists, we  _ cannot _ attend the Queen’s dinner.”

Lady Chou nodded at her children, “You children must step into the role of ambassadors for us.”

Her brother’s grip tightened around her hand further in anxiety.

“ _ I _ will not hesitate to do this for you, mother,” her brother spoke up again, harshly and with an air of finality, “You can have Tzuyu either look after the palace or travel to speak with the suffering farmers. She does not need to travel to the capital, or step foot in the Yoo Palace.”

Myungsoo hummed in agreement, “I volunteer myself as well. There is no need for Dahyun to trouble herself with traveling more than she already does.”

“Hm!” Lady Kim turned her nose up in the air, “As if I would let Dahyun travel to the capital! It’s bad enough she spends her days wandering the port and riding her horse from one side of the district to the other.”

Lord Chou put his hand down on the table in finality, “It is settled then-- Tzuyu, go fetch us that dessert your brother mentioned!”

Tzuyu pulled up her skirts and moved as quickly across the cobblestone as her feet would allow. She delivered the desserts, but did not stay to enjoy them, quickly disappearing with the servants back into the palace. Behind her, a relaxed atmosphere allowed the lords and ladies to laugh freely, content in their little decisions and plans. She couldn’t stand it. The farmers didn’t need a noble ear to listen, they needed answers as to why their crops were destroyed, justice against the terrorists, and solutions for their dying crops. And money from the Queen wouldn’t solve anything, except perhaps bandage their bruised prides. Tzuyu would have petitioned the Park District to provide military force against the terrorism in the north, and the Son District to examine and provide solutions for their diseased crops.

But as Tzuyu looked out her window, angry clouds thundering in the distance, she decided the world was a wide, scary place, and there was no other palace she would rather be in. Problems came and problems went, and she  _ was  _ just a small person in a big kingdom. She had no business petitioning Queens or great lords and ladies. She couldn’t even bring herself to speak up for herself in front of her parents, what would she do in front of angrier, scarier nobility?

Perhaps she would mention it to her brother. 

The world thundered outside, turning grey and bleak, but her world inside was bright: hues of yellow and red, and blue shimmering bird feathers gifted from Dahyun decorating the room. It was comforting, a sunny blanket in a perfectly set dollhouse. Tzuyu pulled out her crown, slipped out of her gown, and found the comfiest clothes in her closet. Her mother opened the door to find Tzuyu cutely wrapped in blankets. She smiled fondly and sat next to her, cuddling close.

“Thank you for entertaining me,” she whispered softly, running her fingers through Tzuyu’s hair, “Your brother decided to accompany the Kims back to the train station. Him and Myungsoo seem excited to attend Queen Jeongyun’s dinner.”

Tzuyu nodded, her eyes drooping with sleep, “He’ll do well.”

Her mother licked her lips, her hand pausing in Tzuyu’s hair, before hesitantly continuing, “But Tzuyu… you… you know you could be a great ambassador… I know you have good thoughts behind that quiet mouth of yours.”

“Mm,” Tzuyu closed her eyes, “Whatever you say.”

She rested in knowing that she was the younger sibling, and that she could live and die till the end of her days in the Chou Palace, the fields of grain rolling in the wind outside her window, and the flowers blooming around her window.

But then her brother came home with a high fever, coughing up blood. Apparently he had decided against hailing a cab or calling for pick up, and walked in the rain, and then through a diseased field.

He found himself bedridden, swimming in delirium.

Tzuyu never left his side, holding his hand as each doctor came and left, knuckles whitening in fear. She slept in a chair pulled by his bed, ate with watchful eyes over his face, and slept lopsided in her chair. It was only when her mother insisted and her father carried her out, did she leave the room. She was worried about her brother surviving, truly and honestly, but selfishly, she worried about all the responsibilities on his shoulders. There was no doubt, if he didn’t recover, Tzuyu would travel to the capital. 

She sat on the fence by the stables, contemplating running away for a couple days, to force her parents to attend the Queen Jeongyeon’s meeting instead. A truck pulled in, and Changbin stepped out.

“Lady Tzuyu,” he acknowledged respectfully, before hauling out bales of hay from the storage into the back bed of the truck.

“I’m sorry to hear about your brother,” he tossed another bale into the back, “I wish him a speedy recovery.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Tzuyu grumbled under her breath, “The only doctors are old grandfathers and superstitious grandmothers who account it all to the gods cursing him for being reckless. There’s no medicine, no science, just fear.”

Changbin frowned, “Would be nice to have one of those fancy Son District hospitals, with a smart university student heading it up.”

“You know that won’t happen, Changbin.”

“Maybe,” he hopped into the truck, “but I heard Queen Jeongyeon opened up and fully funded two schools in the Miyou District. All it takes is a little nerve to ask the Queen.”

As Changbin drove away, Tzuyu knew she didn’t have the nerve. She didn’t return to her brother’s room, scared to see how much more he had deteriorated. Tzuyu locked herself in her room and hid under her bed sheets.

And the date for the Queen’s dinner loomed closer, 

And closer, 

A cold hand resting on Tzuyu’s shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has a lot of world building and politics-- sorry if it was a bit boring!  
> Next one is Momo!


	3. From Nobody (Momo)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the Hirai District, a small, failing residential corner of the kingdom, Momo strengthens her resolve.

Momo’s feet skipped across the cobblestone. The sun was burning high against the backdrop of a bright blue sky, a light breeze pulling the afternoon along. The Hirai Palace, a small manor nestled between the library and the courthouse, grew smaller, fading into the backdrop of the center of town as Momo continued down the sidewalk. She rounded the post office at the corner of her street, a skip in her step as the windows of her home disappeared, a skip that quickened into a light jog, a euphoric lift in her chest as she looked over her shoulder and knew that for a few days, a handful of glorious hours, she wouldn’t be tied to the Hirai District. She clutched her bag to her chest, a smile breaking her face. Her feet moved faster, quicker, the breeze kissing her cheeks, embracing her, and for a moment her eyes fluttered shut,  _ just for a moment _ , just long enough to--

_ Wham! _

“Ah,  _ really  _ Momo!”

Rubbing her bruised forehead, Momo replied without opening her eyes.

“Sorry, but  _ you  _ really shouldn’t be standing in the middle--”

Momo’s eyes flew open when the figure before her started to laugh, a strange, maniacal laugh that was too familiar. Momo smacked his arm.

“Ai, hey, hey,” Minho put his hands up, “What is this, the Hirai Lady attacking the innocent citizens of her district. Tch, for shame!”

“Ah!” Momo threw her arms up, brushing down her dress, “You’re really too much Lee Minho!”

Minho regarded Momo carefully, “Where are you off to? Running away?’

“No,” Momo answered emphatically, “I have business in the capital. What are  _ you  _ doing?”

“ _ You _ have business in the capital?” Minho smirked, “ _ Suuuure.  _ I won’t tattle, you know, if you’re running away. I’m not a fool, I know that being an ambassador is Hana’s job, not yours.”

Momo clenched her jaw. Her older sister was the better diplomat, everyone knew this. Momo was too sassy, too stubborn, too driven to compromise and work well with others. In any other circumstance, Hana would have been sent out, and Momo would have stayed within the district, mediating local issues, opening up businesses, and drafting plans for district improvement. But not this time. They didn’t need tact and diplomacy, they needed obstinance and resolve.

“I suppose you’ve heard of Queen Jeongyeon?” She raised an eyebrow.

Minho’s face was blank, but Momo knew that she had struck a nerve. Given that the Hirai District was the newest to be formed, as an act of rebellion against the monarchy generations before, it was provided with the least aid. The Yoo Dynasty had since forgiven the transgressions of the Hirai District, and welcomed them back into the kingdom, organizing schools and building a station for the inter-district monorail, but little had changed. There was one, ill-staffed hospital, and outer resources were rarely reliable. No one could afford a ticket to board the monorail, and the sleek train stopped coming. The Hirai District was residential, and became self-sustaining, posing no threat to any other district. But then the crops failed for too many seasons. And then the natural gas ran out, and supplies had stopped coming from the Myoui District for a year and a half, and grocery stores no longer carried imported rice and vegetables that had been distributed freely by the Kim District. Communications went dry from district to district. The paddy fields at the edge of their own district were privately owned, the owners of which generously supplied to the district in rations, but the food would run out. Petition after petition went unnoticed, Lord and Lady Hirai gave up as much as they could for their district, but it was no secret, without the Queen or support from the other Districts, the Hirai District would die.

She continued, “I have a bone to pick with the Queen. And she’s opened up her doors to grant audience, so if you don’t mind--”

She tried stepping around Minho, but he stepped in front of her again. She looked at him, frustrated, but saw that his eyes were trained on the ground. She relaxed her shoulders and put a hand on his shoulder. 

He ran a small studio, and lived three streets from the center of town. He supported his grandparents and adopted brother alone, and nearly lost everything when the studio stopped bringing in money, until Momo had drafted up a scholarship that supported local businesses and pulled Minho from the depths of debt. She couldn’t forget the unshed tears in his eyes when she handed him that cheque. 

“Momo,” he said softly, “Come back, alright?”

She frowned, bending down to try and meet Minho’s eyes, which were swimming in doubt, unfocused and lazily fixed on the door to his studio. They were very similar, Momo and Minho, but they weren’t exceptionally close. They had the same driven nature, the same undying sense of responsibility, and the same fierce loyalty. Minho used to drive Momo to the edge of the district when she wanted, back when the gas stations were well-supplied, but only because he saw her so often, his studio close to the Hirai Palace. But there was an unspoken connection. His eyes were tired, weary, looking past her shoulder. 

“He left,” Minho whispered, “I-I don’t know if he felt guilty, or anxious that things are looking bleak, but he… he left.”

Momo frowned, “Felix?”

“I thought, ha,” Minho swallowed hard, “I thought I was taking good care of him. I thought he was happy here. I was fine letting him visit his friends in other districts, Chan always takes good care of him, but… Chan never heard from him, and-and…”

“--He didn’t come back,” Momo finished. 

She didn’t say sorry, it didn’t seem right.

Instead she asked, “Which district? Where did he go missing?”

“Minatozaki District,” Momo flinched, because people who went missing  _ there  _ never came back, “Don’t worry, Momo, I-- I’m sure he’s fine. Please, just- just… just come back. Should… maybe I should come with you? Don’t nobility usually have guards or something?”

Diplomacy and leadership took over, and Momo smiled encouragingly, “No, no Minho. You have your grandparents and studio to worry about. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be back, but not until I’ve fought for this district and gotten justice. Then I’ll be back and we’ll find your brother, you have my word.”

She tightened her grasp on Minho’s shoulder even though she felt a hug might be more appropriate. But Minho didn’t appreciate hugs-- he straightened his shoulders and nodded his head firmly, drawing strength from the fierce look in Momo’s eyes, and determined force in her step as she continued down the street.

It was no longer excitement, but anger and a deeper purpose that burned in Momo’s chest and made her move faster. The Minatozaki District bordered the Hirai District, and at that border was the monorail station, an easy transport to the capital. But Momo was taking the long way to the Yoo Palace, a journey on foot that brought her through the edge of the Chou District, across cart paths lined with paddy fields. It would take an extra day and a half, but she had conceded to the wisdom of her sister and parents. They couldn’t afford the monorail ticket, and they didn’t want to risk testing fate by traveling that close to the Minatozaki District. The Hirai District train station could have made the journey, but it was surrounded by slums, and rank with organized crime, thanks to the growing crime rates and failing leadership in the Minatozaki District that bled into the surrounding districts. People went missing from that area every day. It was on Momo’s list of demands for change, but for now it forced her to take the long way around. Momo didn’t mind: the journey through the Chou District was much more beautiful than the industrial smoke of the Minatozaki District. 

Besides, she had to make it alive to the capital if she ever wanted to save her district.

She also knew that her mother had hoped that Momo would be able to stop by the Chou Palace and beg for them to send food and whatever aid they could provide to the Hirai District. Momo planned on doing so, either to or from the capital, depending on how long the journey took and how kind the weather was to her. If history had been any indication, the Chou District would aid in their benevolence. But much had changed since history had been penned. 

As Momo walked through her district, the buildings stretched out between one another, the yards a little wider, and the trees beginning to shadow the sky above her. Friendly couples passed, nodding to her as they continued on their afternoon walks. A young lady walking her dog, and an older man sitting on the bench reading the paper. For a moment, Momo thought about her little dog Boo, and she wondered if she could have brought him along. He wasn’t a guard dog, but he was a good comfort to her. 

She walked for miles, for hours, her mind turning over the list she had made of all her petitions for Queen Jeongyeon, and the many files that weighed her bag that quantified the struggles of the district. Her mind was swimming and she did not notice the scenery change around her as she neared the Chou District. The number of people around her thinned, the white picket fences traded out for darker and taller metal grates. As the day dragged on, dark grey storm clouds blanketed out the hope of the sun and brilliance of the sky. Shadows danced around Momo’s feet, and she started to more cautiously continue on, her eyes monitoring the dark side-streets and alleys, the occasional cigarette butt glowing dimly in unsavory crowds. The lampposts stretched further and further from one another, and as Momo drew nearer to the edge of the Chou District, the company she passed wore deeper and darker grimaces. 

Thunder rolled somewhere in the distance. Momo tightened her grip around her bag, and tried to ignore the footsteps that followed behind her. She dared to glance over her shoulder, only to see the one person she thought was following her had turned into three. 

_ Wasn’t this supposed to be the safe route? _ She thought, wondering how well she could fight in her nice dress. 

She regretted not bringing Boo, who would at least appear aggressive and scare off any idiots following her. Or asked Hana to come with her, or Minho for that matter, who she knew taught and was trained in some martial arts. Any company was better than being stalked alone. 

Momo doubled her pace, crossing the borders into the Chou District and quickly spotting the spires of the Chou Palace on the horizon. It was close but so,  _ so  _ far away. A hand ghosted her shoulder, and Momo swung her bag around with all the force she could muster.

“ _ Yah! _ ” She screamed, “Leave me alone!”

The man swore, grasping his nose and falling to the ground, while his friend grabbed her arm. Another man pulled back his arm, a fist threateningly pointed at Momo’s face. Momo squirmed and writhed against the man who held her arms behind her back.

“Hold still, you filthy--”

Momo spat in his face, and simultaneously brought her heel down on the foot of the man behind her. He threw his head back and screamed, while the other wiped spittle out of his face, and the other angrily pulled himself off the ground. But Momo didn’t wait for them to gather themselves, pulling her skirt up and breaking down the road, the castle on the horizon her driving hope.

There were shouts behind her, and someone threw a stone that barely missed her head. She quickly ducked into the corn fields to the side, pushing the stalks aside and then moving down the rows as sporadically as she could, hoping to confuse them and throw them off her trail. When she felt as though they weren’t nipping at her heels, she ducked down, and put a hand over her panting mouth, listening intently. 

“Where’s she gone?”

“Ah, the crazy---”

“She’s gone, damn it!”

“Ah, and she looked like a nobility too…”

“Would’ve sold a pretty diamond, finally eaten a hot meal.”

That last sentence made Momo’s heart ache, just a little bit. She had wondered, for a moment, if they were angry at her, Lady Hirai Momo, and was grieved by how terribly she had failed them, so that they were driven to do this. But they hadn’t known who she was. They were just hungry, and desperate. 

But Momo had still failed them. 

The sky broke in a flash of white, and roared in thunder, breaking into a heavy sheet of rain that noisily hit the crops. The men ran off, back from where they came. The roaring of the rain calmed her senses, and Momo took a moment to collect her thoughts and weigh her options. She stayed crouched for a few more minutes, the mud puddling around her, soaking her to the bone, before she turned her eyes up to the Chou Palace.

Well, it wasn’t like she had a choice anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of description in this one! World-building is tough work, and I'm starting to remember why I hated doing it lol  
> I'm also realizing Stray Kids are going to play a bigger and bigger part in each storyline....   
> Any guesses who's next? :D


	4. When Hurtful Words Stab (Sana)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the Minatozaki District, where industry and crime cloud the sky, Sana searches for some light.

Sana planted herself like a tree in the ballroom, her father’s figure standing before his throne, looming threateningly above her. She didn’t dare raise her eyes to meet him, stubbornly staring at his boots instead, which were newly polished, reflecting the light from the lampposts outside, flickering dimly along the street. 

Sana hated it. She hated how it was always dark, an everlasting cloud of smoke and dust settled above the district. There was no sun blazing during the day, no soft moonlight or stars twinkling at night. Only the fires of industry from the factories, uncertain flickers from the lampposts, and dull glows from homes and businesses squished together along the street. But even that light didn’t illuminate in the Minatozaki Palace. The lightbulbs gave her father migraines, the curtains usually drawn to block whatever little outside light trickled in. 

And there was no light in her father’s eyes. Just a dull, angry tsunami— icy glares that bore holes into Sana’s soul.

“What,” he snarled slowly, “did you say?”

Sana steadied herself, remembering what little diplomacy tactics she had learned from her late mother. She straightened her posture, but didn’t dare bring her eyes up.

“I-I only suggested,” Sana swallowed her stutters, “Father, I was only implying that--”

“We do not need the fool Yoo Queen!” he roared, “The capital has no business here. How dare you betray your district!”

“N-no, I would never--”

“You would join the Yoo rebellion, and overthrow me, wouldn’t you? You would betray the Minatozaki legacy, to put yourself on this throne, you ungrateful—”

Her legs betrayed her, wobbling uncertainty, and little streams poured out of her eyes, even as her mind scrambled at her father’s illogical declarations, “Why, why-why would I betray you? I’m only worried about the increase in crime, the overcrowded hospitals, the mystery of the people going missing in--”

“Get out!” he screamed, “You forget your place, you-you-you-- just like your mother! I should have married you off years ago, I should have found a son who would--”

Sana didn’t hear the end of her father’s rant, the roaring in her own ears building as she flew up the stairs and locked the door to her room. Her breath hitched in sobs, the world blurring in hopelessness around her. Clutching Queen Jeongyeon’s letter to her chest, she sank to the ground. Her eyes found the windows, light glittering in the raindrops that raced down the glass. The outside world was a dazzling place. Sana’s arm ran under her nose, wiping away snot, and she blinked away her tears again. Her fingers ran over the gold lettering on Jeongyeon’s letter, the certain words that strengthened Sana:

_In an effort to mend deep wounds, and hear each voice from every district…._

People were dying, families torn apart, the Minatozaki District becoming a symbol of chaos and disarray throughout the kingdom. Sana knew what her mother would have done.

She pulled out her most dazzling outfit, her dresses long discarded since her father had stopped holding banquets at the palace, or showing off his daughter to the public. She frowned, as the look didn’t exactly scream nobility, but she pulled on her bright red boots and decided that it would have to do. Sana had the _letter_ after all, the invitation that would allow her to at least enter the Yoo palace. She could worry about the whether-nots and why-fors as they came. 

Letter and pocketbook in her jacket pocket, she slowly opened her glass windows, and looked down the palace walls to the alley below. Carefully, she stepped onto the ledge, shimmying to the side until the large dumpster, overflowing with trash was directly below her. She then slowly turned around, facing the wall and slowly finding her footing down. At least if she fell, she’d have a cushioned landing, granted her father hadn’t thrown out another mirror this week. The rain drizzled above her, and mingling with sweat, stung into her eyes. Or maybe the rain was acidic. Sana tried to not think about it too hard, her hands grasping the ragged stone walls, and feet searching for purchase on a window sill. As she slowly creeped towards the ground, she found herself with an uncommon hope that her father had curtained the windows, and she wouldn’t have to see any horrified looks as she descended. 

She could only imagine what punishment she would receive if he found her scaling down the palace wall. 

When her feet finally hit the ground, she rubbed her sore hands together and leaned against the wall for a moment to center herself. She glanced to the street where cars rushed by, splashing the sidewalk in muddy waves. People walked with their heads down, hurriedly moving from here to there, some looking more cynical and menacing than others. Hands in her pocket, Sana stepped out and joined the flow of people, her eyes set before her. The monorail. There were two stations, but the one near the Hirai District was practically abandoned. But if she bought a ticket for the other, maybe, _just maybe_ \--

“I’m sorry, _how much?_ ”

The clerk at the booth looked up at her and rolled his eyes, pointing to the number on the board again. Sana blinked several times in disbelief. She didn’t have that kind of money. She had supposed that the allowance her father gave her was small, but she figured it would have at least been equal to her position as a noblewoman. She scanned the prices for the old inter-district train that could take her to the edge of the capital, only to find that _that too_ was an exorbitant amount. She finally looked to the very edge of the board, where the district-contained subway that often failed had it’s prices listed. It would only take her half the journey, but was all she could afford. 

“Alright,” she looked at the man again, “What are the times for the subway?”

The clerk didn’t meet her eyes, “Subway’s closed, have a great day.”

“Wha-”

The man behind Sana pushed her lightly, “Hurry up.”’

Sana was beyond flustered, “I’m sorry, but why is--”

“Listen miss, you’re holding up the line,” the clerk at the booth waved vaguely in her direction, “If you can’t afford the train or the monorail, you’re going to have to find other means of transportation. Have a nice day.”

“Other means?” Sana desperately looked around, “What other--?”

The man behind her pushed Sana aside, but she pushed back, hands on the booth table, frantically trying to get the clerk’s attention.

“Wait, wait, how else am I supposed to--”

The clerk stood up and forcibly shoved Sana to the side, “Have. A nice. Day.”

The line of people paid Sana no attention, staring blankly ahead, as she tried asking them for help. She went around, person to person, but the most she got was a sour candy from a deaf grandmother who was walking her dog home. The city was loud, people getting pulled off the sidewalk and arrested from every other street. There was always an ambulance racing by, or an ignored person slumped over in the corner. City after city, street after street, it didn’t feel like the same district her mother had walked her through, the one she dreamt about behind glass windows. It wasn’t bright and glittering, but more haunting and dead. Behind one of the city warehouses, she found steps that led down under the city.

Finally, she had found the subway. 

Sana hurried down, ignoring the slumped over people and shattered needles discarded to the side. Further and further down, until she reached the station. It was bleaker than she remembered. The train came and went, but the lights only worked at half capacity, an ugly stench coming from each corner. Tiles fell off the walls, deep holes scattered into the cement. Crumpled paper bags tumbled like weeds across the floor. Her mother had brought her here years ago, and Sana remembered a bustling crowd, the smells of street food and sounds of different languages melded into a colorful cacophony. The silence that filled the station now was haunting. 

A train pulled in, two people stumbling out as the doors creaked open. Sana started forward, when a hand closed around her arm. He had a mask covering his face, and was a whole head taller than her.

“Who are you?” He growled.

“Sana,” she whispered, eyes flickering between the strangely familiar white symbol on his jacket and the gun at his side.

His eyes widened, “Minatozaki? Did your father send you?”

Another man by his side reported diligently, “You can tell your father that the shipment was successfully delivered, Lady Minatozaki.”

The hand let go of her arm, and Sana straightened her jacket.

“Yes, very good,” Sana slowly backed away, “I will be sure to let my father know. Um, as you were.”

Someone scrambled out of the security station by the tracks, a phone pressed to his ear as he called out, “She’s not supposed to be here! Lord Minatozaki said—”

Sana threw her body weight to the side as a bullet smashed into the tiles next to her, and then ran up the stairs. She didn’t know where she was going, but she suddenly realized she couldn’t go home. Those men were part of the organized crime ring. On the left breasts of their jackets were stitched the geometric hearts of Jay Park’s gang. 

And they were in contact with her father. 

Her father was supporting organized crime. 

She needed to leave the district. 

Maybe Queen Jeongyeon was as kind as her parents before her, and she would let Sana be her secretary.

No, not a secretary, Sana could be a maid, scrubbing floors in the capital.

 _Yes, I’ll scrub the floors of the poorest nobleman,_ she thought, _I’ll give up my name, I’ll go be something else, something different and new. I’ll be Sasha Saki. Yes, that sounds good._

Her thoughts continued to spiral as she wandered down streets, following old, incorrect signs that led her behind factories, down the wharf, through condemned buildings and abandoned warehouses, until she finally, finally found a covered bench that resembled a bus stop, and her legs completely gave out. She closed her eyes for a moment, the rain picking up and falling in sheets around her. Sana put her head against the cold metal of the bench. To her side, a man that smelled like alcohol was slumped over on the ground, and another on the bench lit his cigarette. The smells were repulsive, but at least it was warm. 

Sana pulled out her phone. It was late, nearly midnight. For a moment, she thought about calling a friend, two of the three contacts, but it had been years since she’d talked to any of them. Her finger hovered over Momo’s name, remembering the fellow noble girl from a banquet her mother had hosted years ago. They had hit it off pretty well, right? Her finger hovered a few moments more, until she saw there was no signal anyway, and pushed her phone back into her pocket. 

She leaned back and looked up, wondering what a full moon would look like against the sky. A beautifully round circle, cold but comforting, hung against an inky indigo. The image made her close her eyes, and she saw her mother’s face, as bright and joyous as ever, looking back lovingly. Proud and content. Sana felt her mother’s lips brush against her forehead, and she drifted into blissful memory… 

“Oi!”

She woke up from her dazed sleep with a start, blinking in confusion. Her companions on the bench had left, and all she was left with was the smells on her jacket of smoke and alcohol. She looked up at the wide figure in front of her, who kicked her feet again.

“Get up, I said!”

Another man pushed him and gave her his hand.

“Say you’re a pretty thing,” he gave a crooked smile, “Need a place to stay, love?”

“Don’t mess with a tramp!” the first man said, giving Sana a judgemental glare.

The second man hardened his gaze, “I’m getting her off the streets aren’t I?”

Sana swallowed and stood up, “No thank you. I-I’m sorry, I’ll get going.”

The first man left, but the second loomed above her. In her daze, Sana was standing in front of father again. He was trying to force her head up to meet his gaze by standing uncomfortably close. His empty threats and sharp accusations rang in her ears. _Traitor, ungrateful, fool, fool, fool, fool--_

“Excuse me,” she said loudly, trying to move around him.

He grabbed her arm tightly, “Oh, I don’t think so girly.”

She pulled away, but his grip on her arm was too tight, and her mind was still in a haze. She pressed her eyes shut tightly, the only thought running through her mind, was that no one would miss her, no one would know, _no one would care_ \--

“Oi, she said no, mate.”

Another hand grabbed her other arm and pulled her away. 

“Get lost,” the voice said, an air of finality in his tone.

The man snarled and reached for Sana, but the newcomer pulled her to the side, pushing her lightly to the side. He then bent to whisper in her ear:

“ _Run._ ”

He pushed her back, and Sana took off as fast as she could, not sure where she was headed, but running as straight as she could into the city. She heard someone hit the ground behind, and then footsteps follow after her, but her eyes were set on the lamppost in front of her, and then the next, and the next, and the next… 

“Slow down!”

She picked up, pumping her legs as fast as the lethargy would let her, until even that began to bleed out as the adrenaline burned through her veins. She wasn’t going to die today.

“Sana, wait!”

Anyone who knew her name was a threat, it was thought that was firmly implanted into her mind. She was Sasha Saki now, Sasha--

“ _Sana Minatotozaki, for the love of God, please stop!”_

Her feet stopped before she had even fully processed the voice, and then the man bumped into her back, sending them stumbling into a pole, hunched over and catching their breaths. The foreign accent echoed in her mind, until it hit a fond memory. Sana turned around and pushed back the man’s shoulders to get a good look at his face. She let out a laugh when she saw the familiar dimpled smile.

“Chan?”

His eyes turned into friendly crescents, his smile pulling up higher. Sure, his frame was a little wider and he now towered over her, but he was undoubtedly the same boy from years ago, back when the world was a little brighter. 

“It’s been awhile,” he laughed, “what, two… no, three years?”

Sana let out another laugh, “Yeah, yeah, two and a half… What are you doing here? Don’t you work in the Park District as an officer? What-- why are you back here?”

“To save your butt _obviously_ ,” Chan smiled and winked, throwing an arm around her and guiding her into the city, “What are you doing in this part of the district?”

They kept a slow pace, casually walking through the city like they had years before, exchanging stories like old friends. Chan had left the Minatozaki District with support from Sana and her mother, to train to be a cop in the Park District. He had always had a big heart, even back when Sana had first found him wandering the city, hungry and alone, and brought him in. Her mother had loved him, taught him, and fed him. And her father had despised him. 

Probably because Chan had a steadier moral compass than Lord Minatozaki would ever have.

“Jihyo let me have an… extended vacation,” Chan explained, and then pulled out a picture from his wallet, “I’m worried about a friend of mine, and I’m searching for some answers.”

“Lady Jihyo,” Sana corrected lightly, “And I’m sorry to hear about your friend. I hope you find him soon…”

In her heart, she wanted to tell him not to hope, because no one lost in the Minatozaki District was ever found. But Chan didn’t take no for an answer, so Sana kept her thoughts to herself, studying the picture of the lost boy and promising to keep an eye out. 

“So,” Chan took a deep breath, “The capital.”

“Mm,” Sana nodded her head, “And no, I don’t have my father’s blessing.”

Chan shrugged, “His loss. Don’t worry, I’ve only heard good things about the Queen. She’ll be sure to give you whatever aid you need, and then you’ll be your district’s savior.”

The thought unsettled her a bit. It made her sound like that character her father painted her out to be. Her thoughts must have been loud because Chan put an arm comfortingly around her shoulders and gave her an encouraging smile.

“Hey, you can figure it out tomorrow. We’re close to the Im District, so maybe we can find a way to hitchhike out to the capital. But you can crash at my place tonight-- you can’t save the world if you’re dead on your feet, yeah?”

Jihyo had set Chan up with a nice apartment overlooking the wharf on the edge of the district. It was surprisingly well-kept. After eating reheated bibimbap, at the crack of dawn, they turned in to get some rest. He insisted she take the bed and he slept on the couch, although they both knew that he wouldn’t sleep. Although she didn’t suffer from insomnia, Sana wasn’t sure she would either. 

She pulled out Jeongyeon’s letter, running over the golden print again. 

_...to rectify divides hewn from centuries of mistrust and deceit...._

She closed her eyes, thoughts swimming with scenes from the subway, her father’s angry face, the blank stares of the city, and the freckled face of Chan’s missing friend. 

_… To rise above the pain and hurt, and fashion a kingdom we can be proud of._

She could almost ignore the sirens outside, and Chan’s pacing in the living room.

And the buzzing of her phone on the nightstand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I don't know how I feel about this chapter? But man, did we go places!  
> They're getting longer and longer, and honestly I feel like I didn't do justice to Chaeyoung's chapter lol  
> See you in the next chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Please let me know with kudos and comments if you enjoyed, and if you have constructive criticism or notes, those comments are welcome as well!


End file.
